


Rescued from the Depths

by LibertyKingdom



Category: Titanic (1997)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:54:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28382046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LibertyKingdom/pseuds/LibertyKingdom
Summary: From an excerpt from a thread with the lovely MakesownLuck where Rose's attempted leap from the lifeboat back on to the Titanic results in her taking a terrible plunge.Tw: Near drowning, Tw: mentions of death
Relationships: Jack Dawson/Rose DeWitt Bukater
Kudos: 11





	Rescued from the Depths

Pure pandemonium had erupted upon the once leisure-filled decks and Rose, feeling more observer than participant in it, found herself clinging to Jack as tightly as she dared. Her exhaustion riddled orbs fixate on witnessing an emotional father bidding adieu to his bawling, petrified daughters. He had adorned himself with a brave face and spun a silvery tale in parting. While she was only being vaguely attentive in her eavesdropping, his words lodge in her cranium. “It’s goodbye for a little while,” the man professes. Nevertheless, she could see the truth laid bare in his eyes. With that thought, remained the knowledge of the conversation she had held with Mr. Andrews about the number of lifeboats the Titanic housed. Mr. Andrews’s words wage war on her already dismal dwellings. “There aren’t enough lifeboats even by half.” If what he claimed was true, and she had little doubt that it was having done the math herself and checked it by Mr. Andrews, her mind raced through countless more calculations until panic begins to inspire her to protest the offered spot on one of the lifeboats. This night would end with many innocent lives being lost. 

Whatever insistence she made was quickly overridden by the adamant and unrelenting persuasions of Jack and Cal. They had made an arrangement. Or at least Hockley claimed, that he had one with a ship’s officer to escape safely. Why he would offer such salvation to Jack, she is uncertain. Doubtful, she observes them both but allows herself to be ushered into the waiting lifeboat. She turns her back to the ocean and finds Jack’s outstretched hand, clutching his fingers with all her might willing him to come. Why couldn’t he just forget chivalry and join her? Why did he have to be as valiant and selfless as he had been the moment they first met?!

All too soon, the warmth of his contact is wrenched away, and she is pushed towards the back of the tiny wooden vessel to make room for more. Eerie traces of dimly illuminated indigo waters etched and ebbed across the side of the massive, struggling ‘Ship of Dreams.’ Oh, how that bestowed title torments her in that very moment. It was no longer a palace of celestial imaginings. It was a full-blown nightmare straight from the pit of hell!

While Rose was outwardly skillful in concealing her terror, it continued to bubble up inside of her chest. The force of which, battered heavily against her ribcages as her gaze shoots upwards, seeking, till they find Jack. He and Cal have a deal. She kept reminding herself. However, if they had a deal with an officer on the other side of the ship, why would they remain so stagnant in nearly the same place she had taken her leave of them? Conscience whispers, there is no deal. Is there? There is no grand reunion coming later on. Was there?! This was going to be their final goodbyes. The longer she ruminates upon these thoughts the more the internalized panic began to claw its way to the surface.

In the glow of the lone bursting flare, Rose could see the intolerable grief etched upon Jack’s handsome countenance. With that glimpse alone, she realizes, she can’t do this! She can’t abandon him now!!! She loves him more dearly, more ardently than her own life. She pictures where this road to supposed salvation will lead and it is the same hideous path she’d been set upon with Cal. A road that led her to near self-destruction.

She rallies courage around herself like a cloak, rises to her feet and she lunges quite forcefully forwards across the lifeboat to make the biggest leap of faith she can muster. However, sheer will alone does not propel her far enough towards her end-goal. Whilst her arms were outstretched and the ship had been briefly in reach, Rose finds herself plunging helplessly into the glassy indigo waters below.

There is little Rose can do to prepare herself or brace for the pending harsh impact. It’s all happening far too fast for actual cognition to fully ignite.

The connection with the frigid water below is punishing, forcing her to let out a terrible gasp. Following that gasp comes an influx of salted water that burns down every inch of her esophagus. Choking, she scrambles to suck in another breath of air, but the effort is futile. This inhale is also tainted with water. Lungs heave out a final ratty cough expelling as much as she could before she’s pulled below.

Rose begins to kick furiously, her legs tangling precariously with her skirts. She desperately grapples with her cold-numbed hands, clawing for the surface. Yet, she finds herself being dragged farther downwards. Weighted as if her pockets, correction- Cal’s pockets, were lined with bricks rather than luxurious fabrics. With every second, the adorned articles of clothing seem to be growing heavier and heavier as the water absorbs into the once dry material. It does not occur to her panicking mind to shrug the dress-jacket off. Instead, her focus remains on getting back to the surface despite her rapidly waning energy.

Rose had desperately wished for this horrific fate. Not more than a night or so ago, she had stood on the Titanic’s stern. She peered into churning waters that beckoned with the promises of eternal liberation and prepared herself to take the readily offered exit. That alluring promise had been nothing more than a mere mirage which, Jack Dawson helped to expose. He rescued her and gave her life purpose again!!! 

Jack had also been right about the water feeling like ‘a thousand knives all over one’s body.’ The chill is suffocating, snatching the breath straight out of one’s lungs. Something Rose was now experiencing with terrifying, miserable clarity thanks to the miscalculation. 

The auburn-haired young woman is jarred from thoughts of her own death by a sudden forceful tug that propels her upwards till she resurfaces. A powerful arm coils around her middle and draws her nearer. Sputtering out water, Rose turns her alarmed orbs towards the source. There is an immediate, grateful softening to the cerulean hues as she discovers Jack beside her in the water. Hoarse vocal cords rasp out, “J…J…Jack? Wh…wh… what are y… y… you doing … he… here? Y… you we….were safe! You ha….had… had that deal. Did … didn’t y… you?” Rose prods, with great effort. Guilt adds to the crimson stains stealing across her porcelain skin. It was her fault that he ended up in the water!

She shivers fiercely against the night’s unforgiving chill as it winds through sopping curls and weaves itself into the drenched fabrics surrounding her slender frame. Rose allows herself to be drawn closer to Jack’s sturdier build knowing full well that she can hardly rely on her own strength anymore. Stiff fingers clumsily attempt to curl around his deeply saturated shirt until the wooden lifeboat begins to gain on them.

It took a good deal of effort on the ladies behalves to hoist both bitterly cold unintentional swimmers to ‘relative’ safety. Rose stiffly pauses near the ledge of the wooden raft and clumsily attempts to help with Jack’s rescue until the indomitable force she recognized as Molly Brown slung a blanket over her shoulders and ushered her towards an empty space away from the edges. “Well ain’t you two a sight for sore eyes,” Molly exclaims, in a purely materialized way. “Sure glad we made room for you. Thought we nearly lost you both.” She confides, taking up a seat near-by.

The air is torturous, hardly tolerable against her already numb skin. Every subtle strike of a breeze feels more like a slap than a caress. Rose allows her violently quivering limbs to be maneuvered closer to the familiar comfort of Jack’s. Gnashing teeth attempt to emit a strained sound of words, “God, I’m … I’m s…. sorry, Jack. I… I couldn’t… I… I cou… couldn’t … leave you.“ She confides, her tired eyes flooding with hot tears. The contrast between the tears and the cold was uncomfortably significant though, Rose actively elects to ignore it in favor of Jack’s comforting words.

Cerulean orbs linger, fixating on drinking in every inch of Jack’s beloved countenance. Her own tired mind is dogged with unrelenting doubts that are compounded by the soundtrack of horrific screams, calls for lost loved ones, and the sound of twisting and groaning metal. She briefly pries her gaze away to examine the endless horizons but she could discern no warm lights from responding vessels.

Internally, Rose did not relish boarding another ship of any kind. Still, she is far too keenly aware that they are thousands of miles off their intended destination and that if they did not receive help soon, the disastrous fate of the others, would also become their own.

Rose knew that if she let herself focus on any more of the sufferings playing out all around them, she might drown in something more deadly than the depths of the North Atlantic. Shifting her attention, she whispers in question, “th… thi… think we’ll ev … ever see New York?” Right now, the thought of dry land itself felt like a pipedream, a fleeting, hopeless imagining. An imagining that was infinitely safer than reflecting on the fact that many of the people she had brushed shoulders with, locked eyes with, shared a laugh or smile with, or even saw milling around the various decks, would never reach the final destination. Was it selfish of her to want to fixate on something sanguine than death? Perhaps. But Rose was beyond the point of caring.

There is something about Jack’s claims that bids her to believe, dares her to dream, that this nightmare would cease with the awakening of dawn’s first light. His words offer a salve to her troubled soul and she melts into it as eagerly as she does his proffered embrace. 

“You…you’re…. you’re shivering.” Rose blandly states, pointing out the obvious when her attention returns fully to Jack. She instinctively moves to shuffle more of the drier parts of her damp blankets around him and she nestles tighter against his side. While she didn’t have much warmth to share, she would gift him what she could. Feeling a renewed sense of gratitude for Jack, she breathes, “you … you could have le… left me behind…” There is no chastisement in the shallows of her syllables but rather curiosity and relief. If he had left her, she would have surely died without his intervention but his health wouldn’t have been potentially jeopardized.


End file.
